


Desperately

by MannaTea



Series: Rewritten, Reborn, Revived [12]
Category: Versailles no Bara | Rose of Versailles
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:53:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25248727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MannaTea/pseuds/MannaTea
Summary: A Five Senses Challenge fanfic, one chapter for each 'sense.'1. Touch.“If it’s nothing, then why are you crying?”
Relationships: André Grandier/Oscar François de Jarjayes
Series: Rewritten, Reborn, Revived [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/653711
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Desperately

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of the Five Senses Challenge on Livejournal. Five chapters, one for each “sense.” These stories go from childhood to adulthood, from friendship to romance. :) The title comes from the George Strait song of the same name: [Desperately](https://youtu.be/_3E2rufSafo).
> 
> The notes on the original work (posted July 13, 2008) were as follows:
> 
> _"Instead of mourning the loss of our dear André on the 13th of July, let's celebrate his life! Adieu, dear André! (And ah, as I write this, the sun is setting...)"_

She found him by the apple tree.

He sat at the base of the trunk, knees drawn up, shoulders hunched forward. His face was buried in his arms.

Curiosity compelled her to move forward. “André?”

When he didn’t answer, she knelt beside him and let her hand rest on his shoulder. Was it possible he was sleeping like this? It seemed unlikely, even for him. “André?” she tried again, peeking through the opening his arms offered her. She stuck her free hand in the gap until her fingers brushed against his face.

He pulled away from the contact, and she looked down at her hand. Wet.

She knew what that meant. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t bury his face again, but he also wouldn’t look at her. “Nothin’.”

“If it’s _nothing_ , then why are you crying?”

He didn’t answer. She felt frustration bubble up inside and tried to quash the desire to lash out. Father said she had to learn better than to act impulsively; a temper wasn’t something to be proud of. Right.

But André, a year older and nearly half a head taller, somehow, did not usually spend his time huddled under apple trees crying. She liked to think she knew him well enough to know _that_ at least! After all, they were friends. Or at least…fencing partners. But fencing partners could be friends, right? If she wanted? That made André her friend.

And friends confided in one another; they shared their problems.

By not saying anything, he might as well have said he didn’t feel the same way!

“Dammit, André!”

 _That_ got his attention! His shoulders straightened and he stared at her from beneath long, dark lashes that were still damp, his mouth open. “Oscar!” he said, drawing his arms around his knees a little tighter. “You shouldn’t talk like that!”

“And why not?” She stuck her chin out, narrowing her eyes. “Father does it all the time! And someday, I’ll be just like him!”

André lowered his head, shaking it as if to rid himself of the last of his tears.

She folded her arms over her chest. “Only _girls_ cry like _that_ , you know. Father said so.”

André suddenly looked ready to begin crying again, fresh tears dangerously close to falling. “What do you know about it?” he asked. It was an attempt to sound angry, she supposed, but with his wobbly voice it mostly just sounded pathetic.

“I…” She couldn’t be sure _what_ to say, not in a situation like this! Well, if telling him only girls cried hadn’t worked, what would? Frustrated when nothing came to mind, she ground out, “Well, how am I supposed to _know_ if you don’t _tell_ me?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But—”

“I _said_ , I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Fine!” She got to her feet and moved behind him to climb the apple tree. It was a great old thing, but it didn’t intimidate her. Too much was on the line! André would tell her for sure if she brought him an apple; he loved to eat. He was always begging for food from Nanny, or picking fruit from the orchard trees when he thought no one was looking. A snack would make him feel better, and then he’d tell her everything.

And if he didn’t…well, she’d drop that apple on his thick skull, that’s what!

She climbed and picked in silence, untucking her shirt from her breeches to fill it with apples. If one apple might work, more could only improve her chances. And if _she_ picked them, as heir to the Jarjayes estate, then he would be allowed to indulge.

Shirt full, she held it carefully and started the climb back down.

“Oscar,” said André, wiping his face on his sleeves and standing as he peered up into the tree, “you shouldn’t be up there…”

“And why not? Don’t be so bossy; I’m a boy just like you, and if you can do it, then I _definitely_ can.”

“That’s not what I _mean_ —” he said, and seemed fully prepared to explain himself, but it was then, distracted as she was trying to talk and hold her shirt and put her foot in the right place all at once, that she felt the heel of her shoe slip against the branch she’d placed it on.

She froze, uncertain of whether she should let go of her prize to try to grab a branch, or hold onto her shirt in hopes of saving the apples she’d worked so hard to acquire.

The apples won.

She landed on her back, hard. André was at her side in an instant, perhaps less.

“Are you okay?” He brushed her hair out of her face. “You’re all scratched up! Oscar? Did you break something?”

She blinked a few times and tried to catch her breath. “I’m fine,” she said when she could make words again. He sighed, maybe in relief, and offered his hand, which she took. To her dismay, two of her apples had gotten away from her, and sat a few yards away.

“They’re just apples,” he said, following her gaze. “Don’t worry about them.”

She reached into her shirt, which now held only two apples, and offered him one. “Here.”

He took it and bit into it distractedly. “You’re going to hurt tomorrow if you don’t already,” he said, almost lecturing. “It’s gonna hurt a _lot_. Good thing this tree isn’t any taller, and you didn’t fall from higher up… Granny would have had my head if anything had happened to you!” He paused, as if expecting her to laugh or argue back.

She chose to do neither, and instead fixed him with a serious look. “You never told me what was wrong.”

He swallowed his bite and shrugged. “You’d just laugh.”

Indignation rose inside her like boiling water. “I would not!” she said, taking a fierce bite out of the other apple. “I laugh at _funny_ things. If it was something that made a _boy_ cry, it probably wasn’t funny!”

He looked thoughtful for a long moment, but finally lowered his shoulders from their defensive position and admitted the truth. “I was thinking about my mom.”

“Mom? André, it’s _mother_ , not _mom_.” She crinkled her nose at him.

“It’s not as if it makes a difference.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

She glared at him, certain he was trying to avoid answering her original question with the thoroughness she expected. “What were you thinking about? What _about_ your mother?”

He sat down again, and she joined him, her shoulder touching his, but he didn’t say anything for a long while.

Just when she thought she would have to ask again, he mumbled out a reply: “I was just remembering that today was her birthday.”

“Oh.” She knew, of course, that his parents were dead, and his mother was the most recent loss. But what did a person say to a friend who cried over it a full year after the fact? Her chest felt tight. “I’m…”

“It’s okay.” He finished off the apple and tossed the core into the grass. “She’s not in pain anymore, at least.”

“So why were you crying, then?”

“I…” He pulled his knees up again. “It’s stupid.”

“No it’s not!”

He took a long time to answer, but she could tell he was considering his words carefully. She knew him well enough to understand that about him. They were definitely friends, then.

“...I can’t remember her face very well anymore…” He made the effort to meet her gaze, and there were already tears in his eyes again. “I don’t remember the sound of her voice at all!”

She patted his shoulder awkwardly, uncertain, and tried to imagine what that would be like, to forget the sound of her own mother’s voice. André seemed to know what he needed and wrapped both of his arms around her. She returned the gesture with one arm, the other still holding onto her half-eaten apple, and felt his attempt to calm himself in his deep breaths.

When he seemed less shaky, she tugged on the end of his short ponytail. “Do you feel better now?”

He pulled away, face flushed with embarrassment and still damp. “Yeah… I’m sorry… It won’t happen again.”

She couldn’t help the surge of defensiveness that overtook her. She sat up straight. “It’s okay if it does,” she said. “I’ll be the strong one, then. That’s why I’m going to become a great military general, just like Father!”

He fell silent, only looked at her with a gentle expression on his face, as if he knew something she didn’t.

“What is it?” she asked when the silence became too much and she’d already finished her apple. “Afraid I’ll leave you behind?” She tossed the core off into the grass to join André’s and got to her feet. “Not a chance! I’ll tell Father you _must_ accompany me always, as every good leader needs an equally good right-hand man.”

He almost smiled. “Thank you, Oscar.”

She grinned down at him. “We still have a few more minutes before fencing practice… How about another apple?”

She started to haul herself into the tree, prepared to take on the challenge of acquiring two more apples, but the gentle touch of André’s hand on her arm stopped her.

“Let me,” he said, his voice quiet. “You can’t become a famous military general if you kill yourself falling out of a tree.”

“But I’m smaller,” she argued. “If I fall, you can just catch me. If _you_ fall, you’d probably squish me flat because you eat so much! It just makes sense to do it this way.”

“All right.” He smiled then, and moved into position behind her as she pulled herself up to the first branch. “You can count on me.”

“I know,” she told him, reaching for the next branch up. “You wouldn’t be my friend otherwise.”


End file.
